


Deep Dish

by HeyBoy, rainbowshoes



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bruises, Choking, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Exhibition, Sappy Ending, Sexual Roleplay, pretending to be inexperienced/virginal, previous injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21813433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyBoy/pseuds/HeyBoy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowshoes/pseuds/rainbowshoes
Summary: a pizza delivery porno with an extra sappy endingOfficial blurb: “Fun WinterHawk pwp with role play and whatever else you’re thinking of. The scene begins with Bucky as a Pizza Delivery dude, and you can imagine what happens next”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 7
Kudos: 79
Collections: Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2019





	Deep Dish

**Author's Note:**

> extra special thanks to HeyBoy for the fucking awesome art that inspired this and the spectacular banner

Bucky shifted his weight from his heels to his toes and back again, anxious as he waited on his pick-up order. His back was to the wall, the door to his right, and the pizzeria wasn't crowded, but he still felt jittery, tense - on edge. He kept his hands firmly in his pockets, his eyes darting over everyone in the building, glancing out the big picture window, then repeating the process. 

At one point, a woman smirked at him. He fought a flush, then looked down and carefully didn't sigh. All the Avengers had grown tired of seeing him wear black, though he preferred it, and had instead replaced almost the entirety of his wardrobe with brightly colored tee shirts with puns on them. This one was red and had 'dat' and a donkey below it. When he looked up again, the woman was chatting with the girl beside her and laughing brightly. 

The prostate massager in his ass vibrated again, a heavy thump coming between the much lighter and hardly noticeable buzzing, and he suppressed a twitch. He almost - but not quite - regretted his little bet with Clint about who had more self-control. They were both snipers, after a fashion, and perfect control was sometimes necessary. Sitting in the perfect nest for hours or days on end without moving to maintain cover took a level of physical control most people couldn't comprehend. Bucky had been stunned the first time he'd seen Clint actually focus on anything - and, he admitted to himself later, really turned on. 

It didn't matter that Clint wasn't watching him right now, that this was just one part of the elaborate set up they had going on. It was a point of personal pride that no one saw just how twitchy he felt, how much the prostate massager was getting under his skin, how badly he wanted to get out of here and head straight home. _Home_ was still a bit of a novel thought, but he didn't recoil from it like he might have, once. He smiled a little, instead, thinking about Lucky and the smell of coffee that permeated the entire apartment, the arrow holes in the walls and ceiling, the warm, soft bed he shared with Clint. The way it felt to be able to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted - no missions, no orders. No punishment.

When he heard his name, he grabbed the two pizzas he'd ordered nearly an hour ago, paid, and left - not quite speed walking, but not pretending to walk at a 'normal' pace either. He tugged the brim of the stupid ballcap - also red, but it had the outline of a black cat and the words 'I do what I want' around it - down over his face and tried to look less imposing as he made his way around clumps of gawkers on the sidewalk. He hadn't covered his arm, which might have been a mistake, but he wasn't ashamed of it. It just made him stand out a bit too much for comfort. Oh well. Clint had a thing for it, and that was all that mattered tonight. 

Maybe their plan to act out part of the 'plot' of one of Clint's terrible old pornos until one of them cracked and broke character wasn't the best plan, but dammit, Bucky was determined to _win_. They'd improvised, a bit, considering the porno Clint had was, well from the 70s and also straight and also didn't have any ideas regarding supersoldier stamina. But the premise was the same, and that was the important part. 

Bucky had lost the bet over who had to be the one to deliver the pizza, but he wanted to win this. He absolutely had better control than Clint. After all, he had almost seventy years of torture at the hands of HYDRA under his belt to prove it. What kind of infamous ghost assassin would he be if he lost out to actual human disaster Clint Barton? 

(He'd only recently gotten to a point where he could comfortably joke about his time with HYDRA. Even if it still made other people uncomfortable. He didn't care so much about what _they_ thought, though. He was working on accepting himself and what he'd done the only way he could. Humor, although admittedly it was humor learned from Clint, helped.)

It took a little juggling to free his keys from his pocket and unlock the entrance to the building, but then he was headed up to his and Clint's floor. He was a little grateful he didn't pass anyone in the hall - he liked their neighbors a lot, mostly, but he didn't want to entertain the idea of someone asking to join him and Clint for dinner and trying to find a gentle way to say no. 

It was a little weird to slow down, to change his walk, to drop his shoulders and change his stance from something mostly confident and, well, strong, to something so much less - something more timid.

The porno Clint had featured a youngish 20-something guy delivering a pizza to a slightly older, wealthy, housewife type. The woman had definitely been calling all the shots, even if the kid was the one getting to live his personal fantasy, and that was one element they were trying to recreate: Bucky had to pretend to be the mostly inexperienced one, and Clint had to play the role of the cougar-esque woman in charge. 

Bucky lifted his hand and knocked on the door a few times, careful to use his flesh hand and make the knocks much less demanding than he usually did. He fought the urge to squirm as he waited for Clint to answer the door. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of what they were doing, but that would be breaking character, and he couldn't have that. 

It took another thirty seconds or so before the door finally cracked open. Clint let it swing all the way in and smirked, propping one shoulder against the jamb. He crossed his arms over his chest, flexing his biceps, and despite the white bandage around one of them standing out starkly against his black tee shirt, it didn't detract from the sight. 

"How much'll it be, hot stuff?" 

Bucky could see the laughter dancing at the corners of Clint's eyes. He pretended to check the receipt on the box. "Forty-two fifty," Bucky said, adding in an imaginary delivery fee. They ordered out often enough that he remembered how much it usually cost. 

He eyed Clint hungrily as he reached over to scratch at the sliver of exposed skin above the line of his boxer briefs where they rested, exposed, above his low-slung joggers. His fitted black tee shirt was one of the Hawkeye-branded ones Kate had given Clint last year for his birthday. It had been a size too small to begin with, and it had shrunk in the wash. It hugged him almost obscenely, outlining Clint's pecs and abs and biceps deliciously. 

"Damn, that's steep," Clint complained, brushing one hand through his hair and sort of ruining whatever look he'd been going for before he'd touched it. "Don't think I have enough cash." Clint looked Bucky up and down and licked his lips, and weirdly, it made Bucky flush. "Why don't you come inside? I'm pretty sure I can think of another way to repay you." He winked and reached out to grab the pizza boxes. 

Bucky nodded, pretending to be mute and dumb, as he held the other end until he was sure Clint was supporting both boxes - he really didn't want to waste perfectly good pizza, after all. Clint winked again, then turned and walked into the apartment, purposefully swaying his hips just a little more than he would in his natural walk. Bucky's eyes were glued to Clint's ass as he followed in after him and shut the door. He only remembered to lock it at the last second, right before stepping away to follow Clint into the kitchen. 

Clint put the pizzas on the island and turned to face Bucky, a slow, wicked smirk forming. "C'mere, hot stuff. You look like you know how to have a good time." He laughed once, softly. Bucky almost said something about it, but it was too close to Clint's character, so he kept his mouth shut and let Clint tug him forward by his belt loops. Clint lifted one hand to Bucky's chest and let it slide down over his tee shirt in a swirling, lazy path. His other hand pushed Bucky by his hip until his back was to the island, then slid around to squeeze his ass. "Dunno where they find such cute delivery boys these days." He winked, then leaned forward and kissed Bucky once, almost chastely. "So, what do you think? How should I work off my debt to you? Hm?" He stepped further into Bucky's space and slid his nose over Bucky's cheek while the hand on his stomach drifted lower. 

"Uh. I dunno," Bucky said uncertainly. It was a lie. He knew _exactly_ what he wanted from Clint, but he couldn't come out and say it - that would be breaking character. He had to lead Clint there slowly, make it seem like it wasn't his idea at all. He thought _maybe_ he could manage. He wasn't positive. Clint was damn good at not doing something he didn't want to do, and Bucky had no idea what Clint _wanted_ to do in the first place. "What, ah, what did you have in mind?" He sucked in a sharp breath - not entirely faked - when Clint's fingers skimmed up under his tee shirt, brushing lightly over his skin. 

"Mm," Clint hummed thoughtfully. "I think I have a pretty good idea." He grinned, mischievous and almost devilish, and scratched his fingernails through the trail of hair under Bucky's navel. "Ever had a blowjob before?" 

This was the part of their role play that made Bucky want to roll his eyes. Of _course_ he had - and many - _many_ \- of them had been from Clint himself. Still. "No," he said, swallowing hard for effect and eyeing Clint. He was just a couple inches taller, but this close, it seemed like a lot more. "You wanna do that? For the pizza?" 

"Sure, for the pizza," Clint said, adding a wink for flair. Bucky barely managed to hold in his snort. He reached behind himself and gripped the countertop as Clint brought both hands to Bucky's fly and began to unzip and unbutton his jeans. "You're way too cute to be a delivery boy, you know. What's your name, anyway, hot stuff?" He leaned close again and kissed Bucky - still maddeningly gentle and light. "I'm Clint."

"James," Bucky answered. When they'd talked about it, Clint had admitted he probably wouldn't have been able to get through any of this if he had to call Bucky his name - he'd want to crack and tell jokes, just like he had when they'd first met. So Bucky had proposed using 'James' instead, and Clint really seemed to like the idea. 

"Mm, _James_ ," Clint said, murmuring his name directly into Bucky's ear. He eased his hand inside Bucky's jeans and found his cock, already hard from the damn prostate massager and just knowing things were finally getting somewhere. He supposed it also added to the illusion of the scene, being hard as a rock as soon as his jeans were shoved down to his thighs, but he found he didn't quite care. Clint chuckled and gave Bucky's cock a gentle, almost teasing squeeze. "You eager for your payment, James?" Clint practically purred Bucky's name, and Bucky sagged against the counter. 

"Yeah," he said, his voice holding just the bare edge of a groan. "Yeah, baby. C'mon." He slid his flesh hand up Clint's arm, pausing to squeeze his bicep just over the line of bandages, then his shoulder, then sliding around to the back of Clint's neck and resting there for a moment. "Want your mouth on me." 

Clint looked damn close to laughing, now. Bucky wouldn't mind so much if he did, but he also _really_ wanted that blowjob. Clint leaned forward and kissed Bucky again, a little less teasing, a little more of an actual kiss, but it was still gentle, still nothing like the rough more-teeth-than-reasonable kissing they usually did. It was different, and while Bucky wanted one of their regular kisses, it wasn't awful. He relaxed into it as Clint tugged Bucky's shorts down along beside his jeans. 

"C'mon," Bucky urged. "Please?" He wracked his brain for a moment to try and find a way to hurry Clint along without breaking the scene. "I gotta get back or they'll fire me." 

"I could just let you go now," Clint said, too innocently. "Don't you want me, James?" He was too good at the puppy-dog look, dammit, and Bucky had lost the only way he knew to get Clint to speed up. 

Then he thought of something else. "I mean, well." He hummed softly as Clint's fingers stroked along his cock lightly, not really enough pressure to get him off but certainly pleasurable enough to feel good. "Pizza'll get cold." 

"That's true," Clint agreed, and Bucky held in his triumphant grin. "Guess you've been patient enough, haven't you? Going all this time without anyone's mouth on that pretty cock of yours? It's a damn shame." The wicked look was back, and Clint took half a step back before sinking to his knees, slow and seductive. Bucky almost moaned at the sight. 

He forgot, sometimes, that Clint had basically grown up in the circus, that he knew far more tricks than a regular archer might know. He'd seen plenty of them during combat scenarios and when working with Clint to get a feel for how their skills meshed together. He'd seen some of them in the bedroom, too. For such a tall guy, he was surprisingly bendy. And yet, that simple move was nearly enough to take the breath right out of Bucky's lungs. When they switched things up again, he'd have to ask Clint to use that move again. It was too good not to exploit.

One of Clint's hands settled snugly around the base of Bucky's cock. His other hand curved around Bucky's hip, keeping him pinned against the island. Bucky snaked his flesh hand into Clint's hair. He didn't pull or tug, merely ran his fingers through the short, messy blond locks. Clint bent forward and gave Bucky's cock a small kitten-lick, then looked up at him. Bucky nearly growled in frustration, wanted to hold Clint's head still and slowly fuck into his mouth until he'd had his fill, but he did neither of those things. He stayed perfectly still and let Clint take what he wanted, let Clint give Bucky whatever he felt like giving, gave Clint all the control. 

The next lick had more intent, and it was certainly moving things in the right direction. Bucky brushed over the edge of Clint’s jaw with his thumb, staring down at him with a little bit of wonder in his expression. He didn’t want to admit that some of it - a little bit - wasn’t faked for the roleplaying. 

Clint’s tongue caught around the head and he slurped the rest of Bucky’s cock into his mouth. Bucky groaned softly. He wanted to move things along, but this was pretty damn nice, too. They didn’t often slow things down. 

“That feels really good,” Bucky said, his voice pitched low and just a little bit growly.

“Mm,” Clint hummed, his mouth still full. Bucky tightened his fingers and tugged on Clint’s hair, not enough to get him to do anything or move anywhere, but enough to get his attention. Clint smirked around Bucky's cock - difficult to do, but the expression was mostly in his eyes anyway. One of Clint's hands began to inch behind Bucky's thigh. 

Clint popped his mouth off Bucky's cock just as his fingers crept between his ass cheeks and found the massager he'd put there himself over an hour earlier. "What's this, hot stuff?" He pressed his fingers to it, driving it deeper into Bucky and flicking at the control on it as well. The harder vibrations kicked up, three heavy pulses hitting him every second. He groaned, low and deep in his chest. "Well?" Clint asked, giving Bucky's cock a light squeeze and licking at the side of it - just enough of a tease to be irritating, really. 

"A toy," Bucky said, dropping Clint's hair and gripping the counter again instead. He had to stay focused, give himself enough time to adjust to the new sensation from the massager. 

Clint hummed softly and tugged at the toy, pulling it out just enough to take it off Bucky's prostate for a few seconds. It wasn't exactly a relief. He grinned widely, pushing the massager back into Bucky, making him gasp. 

"I think you deserve more than this little thing, don't you?" He licked over the head of Bucky's cock. "How about we go to the bedroom? I can give you everything you need." He winked and thumbed up the vibrations on the massager again to a steady, heavy pulse that never ceased. 

Bucky took a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself. "Uh, sure, okay. If that's what you want?"

"What do _you_ want, James?" Clint brushed a kiss to Bucky's belly just above the jut of his cock. It was oddly sensual, and Bucky tried to file that away in his brain to remember to use later. "We can just leave it at this?" He stroked his hand up the length of Bucky's cock, but Bucky was already shaking his head. 

"No. Nope. I want - ah - the other thing." His fingers dug into the cheap faux wood counter a little harder. Just as it began to creak in protest under the strength of his grip, he let go. He didn't want to lose this soon. "Please." 

Clint looked like he was having a hard time choking down his teasing remarks about almost breaking the counter. Bucky had broken _a lot_ of furniture while fucking Clint. Stuff was easier to fix or replace than Clint's bones. 

"Okay, cowboy," Clint said, the barest hint of a laugh in his voice. He rocked back off his knees to the balls of his feet, and Bucky could see the way his abs bunched as he stood. He yanked Bucky's jeans back up around his hips for him, too. 

"Fuck, you're so hot." Bucky wrapped his flesh hand around the back of Clint's neck and kissed him. He slowed it down from what it would have been in any other situation and made it sloppier, knocking their teeth together and biting Clint's lip a little too hard.

Clint yanked Bucky away from the counter by his hips and walked backward toward the bedroom. They had to break apart to walk up the stairs to the loft, but Bucky figured staring up at Clint's ass as he went made up for his usual method of carrying Clint up the damn stairs. 

As soon as they got to the bedroom, Bucky tugged his tee shirt over his head. The ballcap he'd forgotten about went with it, and Clint laughed just a little bit. He stepped close and slid his hands up and down Bucky's sides, slowing the pace a little. "Shh," Clint whispered into Bucky's ear, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. 

Bucky rested his hands on Clint's hips, reveling in being able to touch him at all. It was heady. He ran the tips of his fingers along the seam of Clint's underwear, but he didn't try taking them off yet. There wasn't a rush. The point of this was to take their time. He dragged his hands up slowly, feeling the scars across Clint's skin and the muscles under it. His wrists caught on his shirt and pushed it up as he continued to explore by touch, sliding his palms to Clint's back as well. Clint gave him a similar treatment, paying special attention to his vibranium arm as always. 

Bucky kissed Clint again, slowly, and Clint pushed Bucky's jeans down again. Bucky toed off the tennis shoes he'd worn for this exact reason and kicked them to the opposite corner of the room. He helped Clint push them down past his knees, and then he awkwardly stepped out of them as he tugged Clint's shirt over his head. 

There was a moment where they paused. Clint was still badly bruised from their last mission, his chest and ribs splattered with various shades of healing bruises. Bucky knew none of Clint's ribs were broken, mostly because he'd frogmarched Clint into medical when they'd returned, but it still worried him. He traced over the marks delicately, then looked up into Clint's eyes. He knew better than to ask if Clint was certain about what they were playing at. It would break the rules if he did, safe words aside. So he voiced his concern the only way he could: in character.

"These look pretty bad." 

Clint smiled, slow and sweet. It was one of Bucky's favorite smiles. "Don't worry about it," he said, pressing Bucky's hand flat to the biggest of his bruises and squeezing closer to him so Bucky could feel his cock through his sweats against his thigh. "Let me take care of you instead, huh?" 

"Sure," Bucky murmured. Clint kissed down the side of Bucky's neck, his fingers skimming down his sides. He dragged Bucky away from the wall and walked him backward toward the bed, then shoved him backwards so he'd fall on it. 

Bucky spread his knees and when Clint walked between them to get closer, he yanked at Clint's sweats, dragging them down over his hips and ass and letting them pool around his feet. Clint shoved at Bucky's shoulder to press him flat to the bed, and Bucky went willingly, his palms sliding over Clint's hips and thighs and Clint crawled over him, kissing his chest and neck. 

Bucky brushed his fingers over Clint's cock, still hidden by his boxer briefs, and Clint sucked in a quick breath. It didn't take long for Clint to give up his teasing little game and instead reach up to where the pillows were and grab the bottle of lube and string of half a dozen condoms he must have stashed up there once Bucky left. 

It was almost cheating, but Bucky didn't bother to call him on it. It made things easier than having to stop and look for them the way they usually had to. 

"Just relax," Clint said, hovering over him and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "I'll take real good care of you." Bucky's hands glided over Clint's skin as he slid down Bucky's body, kissing and licking his way to Bucky's cock. Clint then flipped him over by his hips in a swift move, one Bucky hadn't expected. His yelp of surprise was only half-faked. 

"Warn a guy," he groused. He grabbed one of the pillows from in front of him and dragged it down to make himself a little more comfortable, even as Clint tugged his hips higher in the air. 

Clint fiddled with the massager again, pushing it deeper and angling it so it was pressed even harder into Bucky's prostate. He sucked in a sharp breath and dug his fingers into the pillow in his arms. 

This was a new sort of torture, one he had no defenses against. And it was exquisite.

As Clint tugged the massager slowly from him, Bucky pressed his face into the pillow and groaned. It had been so damn long already.

He felt like he was going to explode. 

"You are just so lovely, aren't you?" Clint asked. He pressed a kiss to Bucky's ass cheek. When he pressed two well-lubed fingers into Bucky - slowly - Bucky bit down hard on the pillow he was squeezing. "Does it feel good, hot stuff? Gotta make some noise for me up there." 

Bucky had a tendency to have a very, _very_ filthy mouth during sex. Not doing that? He wasn't sure what he was going to do. He'd planned to stay quiet. It looked like that was a bust. 

"Uh, yeah," he said, taking a deep breath through his nose and trying to focus on the stupid role play. "Yep, feels really good." He wanted to demand Clint sink in deeper, move his fingers just a hair to the left, fuck him hard. He didn't. 

Clint nipped at his ass and pushed his fingers in just a little deeper, but it was almost as if he was intentionally trying to avoid his prostate. After so much stimulation, it felt like he was desperate for more. He rocked his hips back into Clint’s hand, moaning softly. Clint gripped his hip hard and held him still as he slowly and tenderly added a third finger. Bucky wanted to growl and tell him to fucking get on with it already. He had a serum. He didn’t need the kid gloves. 

“I’ll be good to you,” Clint promised in a whisper, kissing Bucky’s back. “Just relax for me, yeah?” 

Bucky was as relaxed as he was bound to get. “Yeah, okay,” he croaked. He truly did try to focus more, to sink into the edge of his training like he usually did when he needed all his concentration for one task. The problem was, he didn’t want to give himself over to that side of himself entirely, otherwise he’d lose the experience, the pleasure. “I can handle anyhin’ you wanna give me, sweetheart.” 

“I’m sure you can,” Clint agreed. He curled his fingers directly on Bucky’s prostate and chuckled at Bucky’s reaction. He arched his back and tilted his hips to encourage Clint to continue, wanting more, wanting as much as Clint would give him. “Look at you opening up so pretty for me.” 

Clint pulled his fingers away, and Bucky groaned again, hiding his face in the pillow. He could hear Clint tear the condom wrapper and the snap of the cap on the lube, but he didn’t look or bother to do his usual commentary. 

Clint’s dick nudged at him and one hand gripped Bucky’s hip. “Deep breath for me, James.” 

“C’mon baby, please,” Bucky whined, tired of this taking so long. He wasn’t quite ready to give up the game, but he was certainly ready to end this. “Go ahead and fuck me. I can take it.” He barely managed to keep his voice pleading instead of demanding.

He groaned as Clint slid into him inch by slow inch, but at least he didn’t stop until he was balls-deep. Bucky took a deep breath and his exhale was a soft moan. He canted his hips back just a little further, and Clint moaned right along with him. They lingered like that for a moment, Clint pressed tight to Bucky’s back and kissing along his shoulders as Bucky adjusted to the feeling of him. The hand that had been on Bucky’s hip curled around his shoulder instead, and Clint rested the other hand on Bucky's lower back, keeping him pinned exactly the way he wanted him as he slowly withdrew.

"Christ, talk about a perfect ass," Clint said with a little chuckle. "You're just about the best thing I've ever seen, hot stuff." 

"Just about?" Bucky complained. Clint thrust into him hard and deep and it punched a low groan out of him from somewhere deep in his chest. "Fuck, just like that. It feels so good." He bit his bottom lip to stop the rest of his thoughts from pouring out. Clint was such a jackass. 

Clint drilled into him a little rougher, and Bucky could tell he was losing the thread of the game, too. "Can't think of better, but I don't want it to go to your head." He smothered his laugh in Bucky's shoulder but kept pistoning his hips in and out of Bucky. 

Bucky pushed up with his metal hand and spread his knees a bit more, shifting them both just a little more. Clint slid his thumb up the side of Bucky's neck, a suggestion of what he'd like to do just then. It wasn't part of the role play, though, and Bucky ignored it. He sucked in a gasp as the new position had Clint nailing his prostate on each thrust. Clint brought the hand on Bucky's back around to his chest and slid it down to wrap around his cock, stroking mostly in time with his thrusts. 

"That's it, honey," Clint said lowly, "you stay right there." 

"Just keep doing that," Bucky said, trying to keep his tone under control. "Please." After being keyed up for so damn long, he was ready to snap. He let his head drop but squeezed his eyes shut. " _Please_." He hated begging, but dammit, he didn't see any other options. 

"Shh," Clint said trying for soothing but not quite succeeding. He picked up his pace, though, responding to Bucky's plea. Bucky slammed back to meet him for each thrust, making it feel harder and deeper.

He was caught off guard when Clint hauled him upright by his shoulder and locked his arm around his chest. He kissed Bucky's shoulder where his fingers had been a moment ago, and fucked up into Bucky.

One of Bucky's hands fell down to where Clint's was wrapped around his cock and threaded over and between Clint's fingers. He let his head fall back and rest on Clint's shoulder as his metal hand reached over them both and grasped Clint's hair and tugged lightly. He turned his head to the side and placed a sloppy kiss on the underside of Clint's jaw. 

"Come on, babe," Clint murmured, his return kiss landing on Bucky's cheek. "Come for me. Love to watch you come. You look so pretty." 

Bucky huffed. He'd fucking _won_. Clint broke first. 

Then Clint slid his hand up Bucky's chest, pinching a nipple on his way by, and wrapped his hand around Bucky's throat. The soft squeeze of his fingers cut off just a couple seconds' worth of blood flow to his brain, but that was all it took.

His fingers clenched tight on Clint's hair and around Clint's hand as he came up and over his own chest. 

"Fuck," Bucky grunted. 

Clint continued to thrust into him - two, three, four, five more times, erratic and uncontrolled. Then he slammed his cock into Bucky and squeezed him close, holding him flush to his body as he came. Bucky smirked up at the ceiling, panting to catch his breath. 

"I win," he announced. 

"Bullshit," Clint muttered, kissing Bucky's neck. He slid out and away from him, then peeled off the condom and tossed it with an easy shot to the garbage basket by the dresser. Bucky cracked his neck on each side, then let Clint help him climb out of their bed. "You almost broke the damn island. Again."

"I didn't actually break it," Bucky pointed out, turning Clint toward the bathroom and shoving him in that direction. "And _you_ called me babe and talked about us having sex before. So I win." 

"Ah shit," Clint sighed. He broke away from where Bucky had stopped to fiddle with the shower control to go take a piss instead. "Okay, yeah, I guess you win. Dammit." 

"Told you so," Bucky gloated. "Maybe I'll take you for a ride sometime, though."

"The whole point was that I wanted to _drive_ the damn thing," Clint whined. If he'd won their little bet, he got to have Bucky's vintage motorcycle for a month - the same motorcycle Bucky swore was too touchy for Clint to even dream of handling properly.

Bucky laughed and stepped into the shower and rinsed the come off his stomach. Clint joined him a moment later, taking the soap and scrubbing down Bucky's body. "Guess that means I get my cat." Bucky grabbed the other sponge and lathered it to scrub over Clint's shoulders and arms. "I already thought of a name."

"You know there _has_ to be a reason that same cat has been at the shelter for so long," Clint said with a sigh. "I just hope we can handle whatever issues it's got, you know? And it's gotta get along with Lucky." 

"The girl at the shelter said Alpine was fine with other dogs. They let him hang out in the dog room all the time. And he seems to like me just fine." Bucky yanked on a strand of Clint's hair. "You wouldn't even go see him. Don't be an asshole when you don't know what he's like."

"He's a cat," Clint whined. "Cats are dicks." 

"So are you, and you don't see me dumping your ass in the shelter," Bucky said flatly. Clint cracked up laughing at that one, like Bucky figured he would. "Suck it up, Barton. I'm picking him up tomorrow."

"Don't we need cat stuff first?" Clint asked. "I mean. I might not want a cat, but I totally know they need food and a litterbox and stuff. Toys, probably." 

"I'll get all that before I go and pick him up," Bucky said simply. "You can help. I'll need your truck anyway since I can't haul the cat tree I picked out on my bike."

"Yeah, yeah," Clint grumbled, dropping to his knees to scrub at Bucky's dick and ass and thighs and calves. "I see how it is. You just use me for sex and my truck."

"Don't forget your coffee," Bucky added pouring shampoo into his hand to scrub his hair. "And Lucky. Kate, too." As Clint made to stand, Bucky grabbed his arm and helped haul him to his feet. He tugged Clint to his chest and kissed him softly, even if they weren't doing the roleplay thing anymore. "You know I love you." 

Clint nodded and kissed him in return, but he didn't say anything back. Bucky finished washing his hair quickly while Clint scrubbed the rest of himself clean. They changed places to rinse the soap away and climbed out, one after the other. Teeth brushed and mostly dry, they crawled into bed, and Bucky manhandled Clint until he was wrapped in Bucky's arms with his head resting on Bucky's chest. 

"We'll go pick out cat shit in the morning," Clint said through a yawn. "We can take Lucky with us. He's got great taste." 

"Sure," Bucky agreed easily. He scratched his fingers through Clint's hair and across his scalp. He smiled a little at Clint's hum of contentment and small shiver of pleasure. "You wanted me to prove I was staying here with you, right?" he asked quietly. Clint hesitated, then nodded once. "Well, Alpine's it. I don't have _things_ , Clint. It's not like I can move in." 

"Oh," Clint said, surprised. He looked up at Bucky, blinking rapidly. "Well, shit. I feel stupid for arguing about it, now." 

Bucky grinned. "For someone who knows how to read people for undercover spy work, you sure aren't quick on the uptake, are you?" Clint scowled, which just made Bucky chuckle. "Get some sleep. This whole… family thing we've got going on gets a little bigger tomorrow. Big day."

"Yeah," Clint agreed, soft and a little proud. "Yeah it is." He leaned up and pressed another quick kiss to Bucky's lips. "G'night, loser." 

Bucky squeezed Clint to him a little tighter and wiggled until he was as comfortable as he could get with a hundred and eighty pounds of archer half on top of him. He fell asleep with just a hint of a smile on his face. 

For a guy who hadn't known _how_ to smile up until a few years ago, it was a pretty big deal. 


End file.
